Noon the next day.

Ning Chen set out for Qingzhou with fifty men of the Ning'an Army.

He hadn't meant to bring Pan Yucheng this time, but he'd come along anyway.

Qingzhou was far away. Even riding hard, it would take the better part of a month to get there.

Ning Chen and his men kept to the highway, but they were often riding into wind and snow, so they couldn't travel fast.

A little over twenty days later, Ning Chen crossed into Qingzhou.

As far as the eye could see, everything was white.

The snow by the roadside was three feet deep.

The horses could barely move, so Ning Chen and the others had to leave them at a nearby post station and trudge on toward Qingzhou on foot, sinking in with every step.

Along the way they saw plenty of bodies, people who had dropped dead in the wind and snow.

The snow disaster in Qingzhou was worse than they'd imagined.

By the time they reached Qingzhou city, Ning Chen and the others were frozen to the bone.

The city gate of Qingzhou stood open, without so much as a guard.

Inside the city, the sight was too terrible to look at. Countless houses had collapsed, and there were bodies everywhere in the snow.

Only a single road had been cleared through the city, just wide enough for a cart to pass.

Soldiers were hauling cartload after cartload of bodies out of the city.

The soldiers were from the Southern Frontier Army. Qingzhou bordered the Gaoli Kingdom, and Tong Yuanzhou's troops were stationed closest to the city.

Ning Chen led his men to the prefectural office.

Its gates were shut tight.

Pan Yucheng went up and knocked.

"Coming, coming... Stop banging! You'd think you were late for a funeral..."

A voice grumbled and cursed from inside.

Then the gate slowly opened, and a constable in uniform stuck his head out.

When he saw Ning Chen and the others, he blanched, then instantly broke into a big smile. "Oh, it's you soldier sirs... This small man didn't know. This…